Healing
by christylee
Summary: COMPLETED! Now in college, Gordo’s life is not turning out at all as he had planned. Who can help him find his way back to who he really is? A brunette…blonde…or perhaps a redhead? Potential VG Veruca/Gordo . Oh, c’mon! Give it a try!
1. A Brunette

_I've had an idea for a Gordo-Veruca story on the back burner for quite a while, where it's been cooking, melting, forming and taking shape, until now I have come up with this story, where, in fact, Veruca only comes in at the last chapter. Of course Gordo is almost always the focus of my stories, and so I follow him through a particularly trying time, during which three different women make an impact on his life._

_A quick note: this is NOT part of my "Gordo Series," but it is a future chapter in the lives of some of the characters from my_Teenager_ story. That is the Gordo and Veruca you will see here, now all grown up. Though it is in no way mandatory that you read that story to have an understanding of this one, if you like this story, you might want to go back and read (or re-read) _Teenager.

_If I am so inspired, I may take this story further. For the moment, though, I hope that _Healing_ will stand on its own._

_Oh, and btw, the "Jennifer" in this chapter is a shout out to Jen10, in response to her naming a waitress after me in one of her stories. Is it "Mary-Sue-ing" if we put OTHER writers, other than ourselves, into our stories: )  
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Chapter I: A Brunette

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"Hey…Blue Eyes…"

Gordo's blue eyes lifted from the pages of his textbook, struggling to refocus. It was a moment before he saw The Starbuck Girl standing at the other end of his table, grinning down at him.

He thought of her as The Starbuck Girl, even though he had been here enough times to know for certain that her name was Jennifer. She was single and significantly shorter than him, a petite brunette, her hair in a wild, shaggy pixie style which he usually did not find attractive, but on her (he marveled) it looked really cute. He also had come to discover, mostly by overhearing her conversations with co-workers, that she was a student at Bunker Hill Community College who liked to watch Lost, as he did, and Nip/Tuck, as he did not. He came into the Longwood Avenue Starbucks every Saturday to study, and she always served him, and flirted with him, just enough to make him feel tingly, but not enough to make him uncomfortable. He thought of her as The Starbuck Girl, and she called him Blue Eyes.

"Hey, Blue Eyes," she said again, still grinning. "Lot of reading today, huh?"

Gordo took a deep breath, pulled out of his book. "Yeah. Big test on Monday."

"Well, you look like you could use another," she observed, indicating his long empty cup.

"Oh, I…well…that would be great, but…" he stuttered, fingering the few bills left in his pocket and thinking about how he had already exceeded his budget for next week. Living in Boston these past months had proved to be a lot more expensive than he had originally imaged. He had sat here for three hours already, and could not afford another expensive coffee concoction. "You know," he said suddenly, closing his textbook, "I guess it is getting late. Maybe I should be—"

But Jennifer kept grinning as Gordo noticed her right hand come from behind her back and bring forth the very thing he most desired at this moment: an Extra Large Caramel Frappuccino. "Your usual?" she questioned, placing it on the table before him. "On the house."

Gordo smiled, now feeling the warm tingle all through his body. "Hey! Thanks," he said. "That's really nice of you."

Jennifer wiped her hands on her green apron and pulled out the chair across from him. "It's not completely without cost," she explained, sitting down. "There is one thing I'll want from you in return."

Now that pleasant tingle heated up to a painful burn. The Starbuck Girl had just passed from light flirting into something that Gordo feared would not be altogether comfortable for him. If she asked him out, he didn't know how he was going to deal with it. He was still hurting too much from the disastrous end of his last relationship, and he had promised himself: no more women until he was completely healed.

Jennifer saw the startled deer-in-the headlights look in his bright blue eyes, guessed his discomfort, and quickly calmed him down with, "Your name. I just want to know your name, Blue Eyes."

Gordo breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh," he said. "It's G— David."

"G—David?" she questioned, a smile curling up the ends of her mouth in that way Gordo had previously found so enchanting.

"No. It's David. Just David."

"Well, David Just David, I'm Jennifer."

"I know," Gordo said, stupidly.

"You do?" she asked, a look of delight in her dark brown eyes.

Before Gordo could respond, a male voice was heard from behind the counter, calling out, "Hey! Jennifer!"

Gordo nodded, and she smiled sheepishly. He obviously didn't need to be a rocket scientist or a lovesick puppy to know her name.

"I'm here!" Jennifer called back

"Have you cleaned the espresso machine today?"

"Yes," she replied. "An hour ago."

"And the coffee pots?"

"Done!"

"Well, has the fridge been stocked with low-fat creamer?"

Jennifer rolled her eyes, then answered, "I'll be right there."

Before she got up, she leaned close to Gordo and whispered in a conspiratorial tone, "Preston, my Manager. Assistant Manager, really. He's a year younger than me and he's only been here since September, but he thinks because he goes to _Harvard _Business School, he knows which end is up. I'll be right back," she finished with a wink.

As Jennifer stood up to leave the table, somehow her hand touched Gordo's and gave it a little squeeze. It might have been considered a forward gesture. Well, actually it _was_ a forward gesture, Gordo decided. He just didn't seem to _mind._ Which was crazy, actually, because not a moment ago he was sent into a semi-panic at the mere thought that she might suggest they go out together. But now he was thinking how very much he liked her, and she apparently seemed to like him too. Maybe he was getting over Lizzie a lot sooner than he hoped would be possible.

Or maybe it was just that he was lonely, terribly lonely, and it had been so long since anyone had touched him, or even talked to him, practically, about anything other than schoolwork, that he was overreacting to even the slightest hint of human interaction. He knew when he made the decision to come out east that it would not be easy. Part of him had welcomed the opportunity to get away from every reminder of Lizzie, but another part dreaded also being suddenly uprooted from everything and everyone else he had ever known.

Before he came east, everyone had told him he would make new friends. But Gordo knew better. Making friends had never been easy for him. And so, he tried to tell himself that for the time being it would be best to put his personal life on hold. He had a plan, a mission, a career objective to fulfill. In the past, having a personal life had only interfered with those objectives. If he could not handle both at the same time, he decided, he would do one first, and then the other.

But now, watching Jennifer behind the counter as she went back and forth with the low-fat creamers, he allowed himself to dream. Obviously, she liked him. So what if they went out on a date together? Would that be so awful? And what if they began to develop a relationship? Well, it could happen. Why not? He found her attractive. He could easily see himself kissing her, having sex with her, living with her. What if, after a while, they decided to get engaged? They would look so good together, wouldn't they? Everybody would say so.

Everybody, that is, except his mother. She would not be happy, of course. No doubt, she would say the same things about Jennifer that she had said about Lizzie_. Flighty. Fluffy_. No girl was good enough for her only son. Well, maybe if the girl had the word "Doctor" in front of her name, even as she herself did, maybe then Roberta Gordon would approve. She had high hopes for her brilliant boy, high hopes for both his professional and personal life.

Gordo himself, though, wasn't really sure what he hoped for anymore. When he came out here to Boston, it had all seemed so clear, at least at the moment, but now…now…

Now Jennifer was walking back to his table, and as she approached, he could see her so clearly, smiling as she swung herself back into the chair across from him, and his recent thoughts about kissing her and having sex with her pushed to the front of his brain and made him feel so nervous he was practically shaking. Or maybe it was this second Caramel Frappuccino, which he was sucking down like a parched man in a desert, giving him a sudden super jolt of the caffeine jitters. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew if they talked they would date, if they dated they would marry, and if they married his mother would be _so disappointed _in him for the rest of his life.

"I have to go," he announced suddenly, gathering up his stuff.

But Jennifer reached out and touched his hand again, saying, "But you're not even half done with your drink! Where are you off to in such a hurry, anyway? Got a hot date tonight, Blue Eyes? Uh…I mean, David?"

"No!" Gordo exclaimed, then immediately cursed his honesty. He should have said yes, and put an end to all this before it even started. But then, if he lied, he would never get around to kissing her, and there was some part of him that, despite everything, really hoped he would somehow, someday, get to kiss her.

Gordo's head was spinning. He had stood up, but now he sat down again. He was so confused.

Jennifer was not, though. She turned forward in her seat, reached across the table to touch the large textbook he was pressing against his chest and asked, nonchalantly, "What are you studying, anyway…David?"

Gordo resisted for a moment, then let her pull down the book, so it lay on the table between them. Okay. The gig was up. It was tell-all time.

She looked at the book, then up at him, giving a crooked grin. " 'Abnormal Psychology'?"

"Yeah," he said.

"So you're like…what? A Psych major?"

"Pre-med," Gordo confessed.

"Boston College?"

"No," he said simply.

"Northeastern?"

"No."

"No? Then…then where?" Her eyes got wide. "You don't mean…?"

"Yeah," he said.

She looked mortified. "Oh my God! David! When I made that crack before about Harvard Business School, I didn't mean…"

"It's okay," Gordo said. "I didn't take offense."

"But I was so…so _rude!"_

"No you weren't."

"I'm not a snob. Well, not a 'reverse snob,' as the case may be. Cos I just go to Bunker Hill Community, you know."

"I know," Gordo said.

"So I didn't mean anything bad. Honest. It's just…well…_Preston_, you know…"

"It's okay, Jennifer," he assured, liking the way her name felt on his tongue. "It's not a big deal. Don't worry about it."

"Okay, I won't," she agreed easily. "But you've got to tell me where you're from. Because obviously you're not from here. I can hear it in your voice, in your accent."

Gordo laughed a little. "I don't have an accent!"

"Yes, you do!" Jennifer insisted, only the left side of her mouth turned up as she tried to suppress a grin. "It's…well, I'm not really good with accents, but I know you're not from here."

"I'm from California," he confessed.

"California!" she marveled. "How cool is that?"

"Pretty cool, actually," Gordo agreed.

"You like California?"

"Yeah, I do."

"You miss it?"

"Yeah, I do. I miss the warm weather."

"I can imagine!" Jennifer exclaimed. "After the cold snap we've been having since Halloween! And I'm sure you miss your family and friends as well."

Here Gordo only nodded, somewhat sadly.

Jennifer noted his mood and leaned forward, saying quietly, "So tell me how it is that a California boy makes it all the way out here to Boston Mass?"

Gordo sat back. He worked on his frappuccino as he began to frame out his answer. There was so much to tell. He knew he didn't have to tell her everything. Surely, that would come in time. But somehow, with his foot nervously tapping beneath the table, he heard himself saying, "Well, I've always been really smart. God! Now I sound like a snob, don't I? But it's the truth. I got a scholarship right out of high school to go to USC. I was studying film. I saw myself as the next Steven Spielberg."

"Really?" Jennifer smiled.

"Yeah. So what am I doing here, right? Long way from home, long way from my original plan, my original dreams. How did it happen? Lots of reasons, I suppose. Mostly, on account of my dad dying."

Jennifer gasped. "Oh! I'm so sorry!" She sounded truly pained by the news, and her empathy just made Gordo want to share even more.

"Thanks," he said. "It was a heart attack. Two years ago, this coming January. It really made me take a good look at my life, what I was doing, where I was going. And suddenly it all seemed so…so small. And meaningless. I mean…film studies? What for? Art? Entertainment? Who cares? If I'm so damn smart, and have so much potential, why am I messing around with this stuff? I should be doing something real with my life! Something important."

Jennifer nodded. "Something like…becoming a doctor?"

Gordo nodded. She seemed to understand. "But not just a doctor," he clarified. "A psychiatrist. Like my dad. Like my mom. They're both psychiatrists, you know. And my mom, she was so happy when she heard I'd decided to switch to pre-med. And then when I got accepted to Harvard---well, that pleased her to no end. For the first time in months, she seemed at least a little bit happy again. She didn't even mind that I was coming out here, so far away. She just wants to see me make something of myself, you know? I feel bad, leaving her all alone in that big old house, but…but she insisted. She really wants to see me make something of myself."

Jennifer sat quietly, looking at him, nodding a little.

"So," Gordo went on, "it's a good thing to want to please your parents, right? And I know Dad would be happy if he could see me now. He was a Harvard man. Mom too. I mean, she was a Harvard woman, she went to Harvard also. That's where they met. So it's good. It's all good. I'm doing the right thing. Right?"

Jennifer looked at him for a long moment, then she wondered, "Are you _asking_me?"

"No!" Gordo exclaimed. "I'm not asking. I know it's the right thing. Of course it's the right thing. I should be living up to my potential, not frittering my life away on _entertainment_. When I get out of here, when I get my degree, I'm going to be able to help a lot of people. It will be rough now, for a while, of course, because it's a lot of studying, it's _Harvard_, for crying out loud! Nobody ever said it was going to be easy. I never expected it to be easy. I knew what I was in for when I came out here. So I'm not surprised. And I'm not complaining. It's just…it's just sometimes…"

Gordo stopped, unable to go on, not sure what he was saying. One thing he was sure of, his head was spinning. Wildly. And he could feel his heart beating, but not steadily; the beats felt sort of random. He looked down at the table, at his Abnormal Psychology textbook, and tried to focus on the words. It was difficult to focus. In a moment, he felt Jennifer's hand on his. He looked up at her, felt clearer in that moment, and saw her big brown eyes imploring him. "It's just…sometimes…what?" she asked gently.

Gordo shook the cobwebs out of his head. Focus. Focus. He looked down again at the book, and heard himself saying, "Well, this, for instance. This book. This class. Abnormal Psychology. This stuff is messing with my head pretty bad. There are a lot of really…really fucked up people in this world, you know? I'm sorry. I hardly know you. I shouldn't have said that. Not in that way. It's just that—"

"No, it's all right," Jennifer insisted. "I know what you mean. It's true. Sometimes, some people…the world…it can seem pretty fucked up."

Gordo felt better now that she had said it too. He offered her a little smile, then went on, "But the problem is…you see…when you start reading about all this…this messed up stuff, you tend to start looking at your own life, and putting yourself into it, and soon you're asking yourself, 'Well, what about me? Am I really so normal? Do my actions make sense? Why am I here? Why am I doing this?' "

"David…"

"And in my case," he went on, hearing himself speak before he even knew what he was going to say, "I really have to ask myself, 'Why the_hell_ am I doing this?' Is it really because I have this deep-rooted desire to help other people? Is it all about some altruistic need to be an important functioning part of society? Or is it really just about pacifying my conscience?"

"Your conscience?"

"I know what you're thinking. What did he do? Why does he need to pacify his conscience? Why does he feel so guilty? And the answer? I don't know! I don't even know. But for some reason I feel guilty. I feel like I let down my dad. I feel like I'm…like I'm…responsible for his death—"

"Oh, David!"

"And I don't even know why, because I didn't do anything to him. There's no logical reason for me to feel this way. Well, except, you don't want to know where I was and what I was doing when I got the call that he was in the hospital. That's always bothered me, but it's no reason to feel _guilty. _And yet I do. It's eating me up. So now all I can do is to somehow…somehow _atone_…for what a lousy son I was, what a lousy kid…But even then, with all I'm doing, all I'm trying to do, somehow I know it's not enough…"

Taking a deep breath, Gordo suddenly looked up and felt himself pulled back into the moment. He was talking to The Starbuck Girl, telling her all his deepest secrets. How had this started? Could this really be happening? And why did he feel this way, so shaky, so panicky, his heart skipping every third or fourth beat?

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I really shouldn't be bothering you with any of this. You must think I'm some kind of…some kind of nut… some screwed up weirdo. And perhaps I am. It's just that I haven't talked about any of this…to anyone…in such a long time, and…and it's really uncomfortable, and it's making me feel kind of…Anyway, now … I think, really, really, I need to be going…"

He stood up. He reached for his coat, fumbled to put it on. His heart was racing. He closed his eyes. He heard the scrape of chair legs on the tile floor, loudly, then felt someone beside him.

"David," he heard. "David, are you okay? Are you…?"

He had one arm in his coat, and with the other arm he reached for his textbook, pulling it close to his chest. He had to get out of here! He took a step, almost tripping over the leg of his chair, but caught himself before he fell.

His heart jumped in his chest. _Have to get out of here!_

"David," he heard, even as he felt Jennifer's hand on his arm.

"Jennifer!" Preston yelled.

"Not now!" Jennifer insisted, walking with Gordo towards the door, leading him through the short queue of people lined up for caffeine.

"I'm sorry," Gordo repeated at the door, barely able to find his breath. His eyes were open, he knew, yet he could not see anything, and that scared him.

"David, you don't look good," he heard, though the voice seemed far away. "I don't think you should—"

But he did. He mustered up all his strength to push open the door, and was promptly greeted by a cold blast of autumn air. It stunned his lungs, stopped his heart, and in the next moment he collapsed onto the concrete pavement.


	2. The Blonde

_We had our big "snow event" here in Northern Alabama this morning. It snowed for two or three hours, and was just beginning to stick to the ground when suddenly…it stopped. Oh well. It was fun while it lasted._

_Since we've made the decision to stay indoors all day due to the forecast of freezing temps, now would be a good time to post the next chap of my story. Hope you all enjoy it, and please feel free to leave feedback!_

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Chapter II: The Blonde

It was cold, and his shoulder hurt. That was all he knew at first. And then he felt something warm, at the back of his head.

"Oh…oh…" A female voice, distressed, hovered above him.

"Liz…?" he whispered, but as he opened his eyes, all he could see was the dirty metal leg of an outdoor chair and the ragged spine of a thick book, splayed open on the cold brick pavers.

"Preston! Preston, call 911! He fell! He hit his head! I think he's bleeding!"

He didn't know who Preston was, he didn't know whose voice he was hearing. All he knew was that it was not Lizzie, and then, like the ton of bricks he had just fell upon, it hit him that Lizzie was no longer in his life. They had broken up many months ago, and now he was thousands of miles away from her. He was alone, he was lost, and he felt so hollow.

"…hurts…" he whispered.

Someone was close, leaning over him, patting his back. "David, it's okay. Lay still, someone is on the way. You're gonna be okay."

"…hurts…" he repeated.

"What?" she asked, but the harder he tried to pull some words together to clarify his thoughts, the more they swam away from him. He felt cold, and light-headed, nauseous and dizzy. _Lizzie and I broke up. _That single thought stuck in his mind, unable to get out. But then, as the distant sound of sirens spiraled him into an uncomfortable unconsciousness, that thought broke through the ceiling, hurtling out of control: _Lizzie and I broke up…and I'm hollow inside, and empty…and it hurts…_

_-_

…"I…I think we should take a break," Lizzie said, her eyes glued to her _Adventures in Literature _textbook on the table before her. She would not look him in the eye.

Gordo felt his heart drop into his stomach. "What?" he asked, dumbly.

All around them, the high school lunchroom buzzed with voices and activity, the entire freshman class blissfully unaware of their quiet moment of drama in the corner.

Lizzie bit her lip and played with the tassel of the My Little Kitty bookmark. Gordo had bought her on their first official date, after the movie, while waiting in Barnes and Noble for Gordo's mom to pick them up.

"Lizzie?"

Still, she could not look at him.

Gordo cleared his throat, shifted in his seat. "Did you say we should _take _a break? Or did you say…we should break _up_?"

Lizzie shrugged. "Same difference."

"But…but why?" he asked, dazed, lost.

"It's just not…not fun anymore, Gordo. It's not like it was before."

"But I…I…"

"No, Gordo," she said firmly. "I won't let you talk me out of it. I've made up my mind. I want to break up." And with that, she yanked the My Little Kitty bookmark from the pages of _Adventures in Literature_, left it on the middle of the table, stood up, and walked away…

-

…"I'm telling you, Josh, I think she could be The One."

Gordo's dorm-mate lay on his bed, throwing a nerf basketball into the hoop over the door, time and again. "The One?" he questioned.

"Yeah. You know. The One. The girl, the perfect girl, the one who's your soul mate. If you believe in that kind of thing."

"Are we talking about Lizzie? The same Lizzie who broke up with you… how many times in high school?"

"That was high school. We were both young, and kind of stupid."

"Dave. That was only a couple of years ago. And you've never been stupid. Except for…now, maybe."

"But I love her."

Josh stopped throwing the ball and looked at his friend. "I can see that," he said.

"This time it's going to work," Gordo pronounced. "I know it is. I can feel it."

"I hope so, dude. For your sake."…

-

…"So what do you think?" Lizzie said, standing on their bed and holding up her _Pirates of the Carribean _poster over the headboard.

Gordo stood in the doorway, looking not at the poster, but at the hip-hugging waistband of Lizzie's faded jeans. His eyes naturally traveled downwards, noticing how closely the denim hugged her rear.

"Are you wearing panties?" he asked suddenly.

"Gordo!" Lizzie exclaimed, nearly dropping the poster. She turned to look at him, admonishing, "I'm trying to be serious here! I mean, you'll have to look at Jack Sparrow every night and every day, same as me. I want you to be happy with him too."

"I'm happy," Gordo said quietly, standing in the doorway, leaning against some boxes that yet needed to be unpacked.

"Then it's okay to hang this poster here? Will you get me some tacks?"

"In a minute," Gordo said. "First, you have to answer."

"Answer what?"

"Are you wearing panties?"

"Gordo!"

"Are you?"

Lizzie dropped Jack Sparrow behind the headboard. A tuft of her beautiful blonde hair fell over her eye as she grinned at him and confessed, softly, "Well…now that you mention it… actually…_No_…"

Gordo grinned back. "That's what I thought!" he exclaimed, jumping up on the bed…

-

…"Ever since you moved in with Lizzie, we hardly see you anymore," Mrs. Gordon said to her son, bringing a root beer to the table.

Gordo popped open the can and answered, "Well, it's not really Lizzie, you know. It's school, Mom! I've got so many classes this term, and that big project in Film Production—"

Mrs. Gordon pursed her lips. "Well, that's neither here nor there, is it?"

"Yes, it is, Mom. It _is _here It's really happening. I'm at USC, and like it or not, I'm majoring in Film Production."

"Well, I don't want to get into _that_ with you again, David. But I did want to say something before your father comes in. There's no need to involve him in this, but I just hope you realize that though Lizzie McGuire might be the kind of girl you shack up with in college, it would be absolute foolishness to entertain any notion of marrying her."

David sighed. "And I'm not getting into _that_ with _you _again, Mom."

"It's just…I know you can do better, David. Much better."

"Mom…"

"Hush now! Here comes your father. He shouldn't see us fighting."

"We're not fighting, Mom. We're disagreeing."…

-

…Howard Gordon lay in his coffin, being lowered into the ground. His son David stood beside the grave, in an oversized uncomfortable suit, his mother on one side, Lizzie on the other, all of them dressed in black.

Roberta Gordon wiped a silent tear from her cheek, and Lizzie sniffed. "Oh, Gordo," she whispered into his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'm so…so sorry…"

"Why are you sorry?" Gordo whispered back. "You didn't kill him."

"I know that. But I'm still sorry."

"Shh!" the widow hissed.

Gordo found Lizzie's hand and squeezed it.

_From this point on, _he realized, _everything is going to be different…_

_-_

…"I've made a decision," Gordo announced over the candlelit restaurant table.

Lizzie squirmed nervously in her seat, her pretty blonde hair piled high upon her head, her shoulders bare and smooth against her emerald green gown. Diamonds dripped from her ears. At this anniversary celebration of their moving in together, it suddenly occurred to Gordo that Lizzie must think his announcement would soon have him down on one knee, presenting an engagement ring. The look of anticipation on her face was undeniable. How stupid could he be!

"I'm switching to pre-med," he said as quickly as he could. "I want to be a doctor."

Lizzie stared at him stupidly. Even the glitter seemed to have gone out of the diamonds dangling from her ears. "Pre-med?" she repeated. "A doctor?"

"Yes!" Gordo exclaimed. "I've given this a lot of thought, Liz. I want to do something to help people. I don't want to…you know…_waste _my life."

Lizzie continued to stare at him, and soon he could see her eyes watering up with tears, shining in the candlelight.

"Lizzie, what's wrong? I thought you would love the idea of being a doctor's wife."

"Oh?" she said. "Is that what I'm going to be? A doctor's wife? So then…is this your idea of a romantic marriage proposal?"

"What? Oh! Well…sort of. I mean…no. I'm not proposing. Not yet, anyway. Someday. I mean to, I really do. But right now, I have to concentrate on my schooling, on my career. It's going to be a lot of work. Changing my major midway through is going to set me back a bit, I'll probably have to add a year at least to my undergraduate studies, and then of course there'll be med school—"

"And what will I be doing while you're in med school? How are we ever going to afford that house we keep talking about?"

"Once I graduate, Lizzie, and go into practice, we'll be able to afford anything we want. Anything at all."

"I don't want to wait that long," Lizzie pouted. "Becoming a doctor takes a long, long time, Gordo. I don't want to have to wait another eight or ten years! I want to marry you now. I want us to get our house…now. And besides, what's wrong with Film Studies, anyway? You're good at it. I love your movies. And so does Cliff's dad, and he said he would give you a job, straight out of college. A job, Gordo! Making money doing something you love."

Gordo sighed, playing with the edge of his napkin. "Not anymore," he said….

-

Lizzie came bustling into the kitchen of their small apartment, dropping bags of groceries on top of Gordo's Anatomy books, spread all over the table.

"Hey!" he sputtered, but she didn't pay any attention. She just burst out with, "Gordo! You know that cute little house two streets over, the blue one with the stained glass in the front door and the tangerine tree in the front yard? You know the one I mean?"

Of course Gordo knew. Lizzie had only mentioned, every time they passed it, what a cute little house it was and how they ought to buy it if it ever came on the market. His heart sunk, because he knew exactly where this was going.

"Well..." Lizzie grinned, "It's for sale! There's a sign out front! We should check it out, don't you think? I've got the realtor's number right here. I'm going to call—"

"Lizzie," he stopped her.

She turned with the phone in her hand, a look of exasperation in her face. "Now what?"

"I…I don't know if now is exactly the best time…for us to be…well…"

"Well, why not? Do you want to pay rent forever?"

"But a house like that would cost…"

"So what?" Lizzie shot back. "We've got the money!"

"No, _we_ don't," Gordo said calmly. "_I've_ got the money my dad left me."

"And that's enough!"

"Not enough for a house _and_ medical school. And besides, I'm not exactly sure where I'll get accepted into medical school. It might not be here."

Lizzie hung up the phone and stood over him, her hands on her hips. "What are you saying, Gordo? Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"I'm just saying…the future is still up in the air. Now might not be the best time to start putting down roots."

"Okay then," Lizzie challenged. "Answer me this. In six months I'll be graduating. Am I supposed to go out and look for a job? Or would that be too much like 'putting down roots'? And if you won't use your father's money to help us out, and I'm not allowed to work, and you're too goddamn busy _studying_ to work, then how the hell are we supposed to…to keep you up to your ears in books about body parts?"

Here she lost it, and wiped several of Gordo's textbooks from the table to the floor. Gordo looked up from the floor just in time to see the tip of Lizzie's long swinging blonde ponytail as she slammed the door shut behind her…

-

"Do you, Miranda Isabella Sanchez, take this man, Hunter Clifford Canterbury, to be your lawfully wedded husband…?"

Gordo didn't want to, but he turned his head to look at Lizzie in the pew beside him, and there was a tear in her eye, just as he knew there would be. He reached out and took her hand in his, squeezing it.

She sniffed. And she squeezed back…

-

…"Brittany and I are going shopping after class," Lizzie said, brushing out her hair in the bedroom mirror. "She needs a new suit for her job interview. I need a new lipstick."

Gordo did not bother to point out that with three dozen lipsticks in the wicker basket on the bathroom counter, there was no way Lizzie could possibly need a new lipstick. If he had been paying more attention to his girlfriend than to his textbooks, he would have recognized long ago that lipstick-buying was Lizzie's personal therapy for whenever she was feeling depressed.

He did manage to lift his eyes from the page long enough to see that she was wearing those hip-hugging jeans again, the ones she claimed felt so very comfortable, even when she wasn't wearing panties. He wondered if she was wearing panties now, but didn't ask. What he said instead was, "I'm not really sure I like you spending so much time with Brittany."

Lizzie turned from the mirror and scowled at him. "Who are you now? My father?"

"It's just…she can be a little wild sometime."

"Well, then, I guess you could say she helps put some balance in my life. Right? I mean, look at you, Gordo! When was the last time you got wild? When was the last time you had any fun at all? All you ever do anymore is read those books!"

"Lizzie! I'm trying to do something important here. I'm trying to do something for us, for our future."

"No, you're not," Lizzie stated. "You're trying to do something for _you, _Gordo. I never asked you to go to med school, I never wanted you to be a doctor. That's something you dreamed up all on your own. And sometimes, to tell you the truth, you seem so miserable, I can't imagine how you can go on kidding yourself that this is something you really want to do."

"Lizzie, you don't know what you're talking about. Of course I want to do this! How many times have we had this discussion? I want to do something important with my life—"

"And making movies wasn't important enough?" Lizzie shot back. "Bringing people joy, making them laugh, or cry, or even enjoy a good scare---that wasn't good enough?"

"No, it wasn't. Lizzie. I don't want to camouflage what's wrong with the world. I want to _change_ it."

"Gordo," Lizzie sighed impatiently. "You're only one person. You can't change the whole world."

"I know," Gordo said. "But at least I can try."

"Gordo, honey," Lizzie said, more softly. "There's nothing wrong with trying. But there is something wrong with saving the whole world if you lose your own self in the process. Sometimes, you know, I feel like I don't even know you anymore."

"Maybe it's just that I'm growing up," Gordo defended himself.

"No, you're not," Lizzie said. "You're acting just like a little boy. Don't you realize that?"

"What are you talking about?" Gordo asked, bewildered.

"You think this is all about some great decision that you've made on your own. But I think maybe your mother has more than a little bit to do with all this."

"What!" Gordo exclaimed irately. "Why are you dragging my mother into this?"

"But when it comes right down to it, this is all about your mother, isn't it? About your mother, and your father. All about_ pleasing _them, all about being the good son, following in their footsteps, making them proud. Now, not only do you want to be a doctor, you want to be a psychiatrist, just like them! You're the one studying psychiatry, Gordo, and I'm the one who's figured this out? Don't you see? You're doing what they would want you to do, instead of what you would want to do."

Gordo stuck his head back in his book. "You don't know what you're talking about," he mumbled, intent on ignoring her.

But Lizzie would not be ignored. A moment later, she was before him, pulling down the book from before his eyes, and making him look directly at her. "Gordo," she said. "Answer me this: What do _you _want to do? I mean…what do you really _really_ want to do?"

"Lizzie," he sighed, tiredly, "we've been through all this so many times in the last year. I don't have time to do this with you anymore."

"That's right," she said quietly. "I think it's painfully obvious, Gordo. You most certainly do not have time to do anything with me anymore, do you?"…

-

…Headlights shone through the window, temporarily lighting up the dark living room. Gordo had spent the last two hours in the dark, his books spread around him, waiting for Lizzie to come home. Now she was stumbling through the doorway, giggling into her cell phone as she fumbled with the lock, then suddenly, "Shhh! I'm in the house now. Have to be quiet. Have to go….See you tomorrow? Okay. Buh-bye."

She looked up and noticed Gordo, silent and still on the couch.

"Oh my God!" she gasped. "Gordo! What are you doing there?"

"Waiting for you."

"I told you not to. I told you I would be late."

"Out with Brittany again?" he asked, hearing the coldness in his own voice. "Where have you been? _Shopping?_"

"Don't be stupid," Lizzie answered flatly. "We were at a club. Okay? We were drinking. A little. And dancing."

"A little?"

Lizzie giggled. "No. Dancing a lot, actually. Having fun. _Fun_," she repeated dryly. "You ought to try it sometime."

"Who were you dancing with?" Gordo wondered. "While you were out at the club, I mean….who were you dancing with…a lot?"

"Well, since my boyfriend is an uptight genius mama's boy who refuses to come out with me to have any sort of fun whatsoever, I pretty much dance with whoever asks me."

"And who asks you, Lizzie?" he wondered, his voice about to break in its jealous iciness.

Lizzie swayed a little, tipsy, and smoothed down her mini-skirt as she answered, "Pretty much every guy in the place." Then she giggled, and hiccupped.

Gordo sighed. "What are you doing, Lizzie? Are you _trying_ to make me jealous? Are you trying to get my attention with this juvenile behavior? All right. It worked! All right! I see you. You have my attention. What do you want me to do?"

Lizzie walked over and sat next to him on the couch. She took his hand, searched out his eyes in the darkness, and when she spoke, she suddenly sounded completely sober. "I want you to do what you want to do, Gordo. I want you to live the life that makes you happy."

Gordo sat silently for a moment, feeling the weight of her words, before finally he stumbled, "I…I…I don't know what that is anymore, Lizzie."

"I know you don't," Lizzie answered, sadly.

They sat quietly for a moment in the dark living room, then Gordo said suddenly, hopefully, "You make me happy."

Lizzie shook her head. "No, I don't, Gordo," she said. "I used to. But I don't anymore. And you don't make me happy, either. You just…bring me down. And I'm bringing you down, distracting you from your great mission. We're not doing each other any good at this point, are we? And it's certainly no fun anymore, that's for sure. And that's why…I think it's time, Gordo."

"Time for what?" he asked stupidly.

"Time for us to break up."

Gordo felt a cold shock run through his body. "Did you say we should break up? Or did you say we should take a break? Because taking a break, maybe that could be a good thing, for a little while, if we both—"

"No, Gordo," Lizzie said sadly, quietly, completely sober. "I'm sorry, honey. I'm so sorry, but I've made up my mind, and I won't let you talk me out of it. The time has come. I want to break up."…

-

Gordo felt people all around him, voices, hands. "Pretty good gash on the back of the head," someone said, gently examining. "He must have hit it on the chair."

"Is he going to be all right?"

This voice seemed vaguely familiar, but it was not Lizzie.

"I'll need some antiseptic right away. Don't worry, sweetie. Your boyfriend's going to be okay."

"He's not my boyfriend…"

"Here we go. A little pressure, some clean pads…they'll stitch him up at Beth Isreal. Do you want to ride in the ambulance?"

Gordo phased out again as he felt himself being lifted, moved, wheeled into a place that was brighter, warmer, safer, and full of people who were going to take care of him.


	3. Redhead

_I'm making this the final chapter in this story, because I think by the end of it, it will be easy enough for the reader to tell where it's going. My intent is to continue in this new "Gordo-Universe" at some time in the future, but not right away. After this, I would next like to dust off an idea "green aura" inspired quite a while ago --- a story with a colorful character named Van Assante! That should be fun, not as "heavy" as this story, but hopefully full of drama, danger and angst!_

_In the meantime, please feel free to comment on this story, whether or not you liked it, and whether or not you can see a future for Gordo and Veruca. I like unusual ships, and I'm not sure how often this one has been done in the past, and if readers will be able to get on board. It's been very quiet in LM FF lately, so any comments at all will be appreciated! Thanks!_

_-_

-

-

Gordo was awake for several minutes before he opened his eyes. He lay still in the bed, knowing it was not the bed in his dorm room, yet not sure where he might be. His most recent memory, though vague, was of a girl with short spiky dark hair and big brown eyes. Her name was Jennifer…or Jessica? And he was…? In her bed? No, it couldn't be. Yet, he remembered kissing her. Then he remembered that had not actually happened. His mind was playing tricks on him.

Then what _had_ happened? Oh yeah. Starbucks. Abnormal Psychology. Too much Frappachino, and way _way _too much talking. He fell. He hit his head. Ow. Suddenly he could feel the pain of the stitches on the back of his head, under the bandage, and taking a deep breath of the antiseptic air, he realized he was in a hospital.

That's right. The Emergency Room, the bright overhead lights, the white-coated doctor, only a few years older than he was. Tufts of his curly dark hair silently floating down to the white tile floor, followed by the odd sensation of surgical thread being gently pulled through the back of his numbed skin. He had signed some papers, answered numerous questions, agreed to be admitted overnight for "tests." Though he kept insisting this whole thing was nothing more than a classic anxiety attack brought on by too much studying, combined with the evil effects of caffeine, the doctor wanted to be sure it was not more serious. And, to tell the truth, especially after what had happened to his dad, so did Gordo.

He felt better now. Rested. He was glad he'd agreed to stay overnight. Though he sensed that there was no one in the other bed, he could easily hear the sounds of people just beyond his door, and that made him feel less alone than he usually did in his room at the far end of his extremely studious dorm.

Though he had not yet opened his eyes, he felt certain the afternoon had been swallowed up by the evening. He imagined he had been asleep for several hours at least. The room felt as if it was bathed in twilight.

And now, he sensed that someone had come through the door and was approaching his bedside. Taking another deep breath, he prepared to open his eyes, but before he could do so, his deep breath was met by a whispered "Gordo?"

He froze, holding his exhale, wondering who could be beside his bed, calling him Gordo. There were only a few people in the world who still called him that, and none were in Boston. Unless the hospital had informed his mother and she had rushed to his side, and somehow Lizzie had made the trip with her…?

He opened his eyes, and in the twilight of his hospital room he saw not the blonde he was anticipating, but a redhead he had thought he would never see again. In school back in California, there had been a girl, Veruca somebody, who had been in a few classes with him, and Gordo also had a vague memory of a brief stint together in…in a school club about…about dwarves and dragons? It all seemed so surreal. And of course there had been that time in the restaurant, with Ethan Craft…

Gordo heard himself chuckling lightly. "Veruca?" he asked uncertainly.

The redhead grinned, then nodded. "Oh my God," she said. "No one has called me that for _ages._"

"No one has called me Gordo for ages," he replied.

"Then…David?"

"Yeah," Gordo said, amazed that she remembered his real name.

"And it's just 'Vee' these days," she replied. "Short, and sweet. Just like me," she added with a big grin and quick wink.

Gordo looked at her, his eyes adjusting, and the more he looked, the more amazed he was that he had recognized her at all. In middle school, she had been quite heavy, and wore glasses. In high school, she still bore the weight and the glasses, but had also added the distraction of being completely "Goth-ed" up in black clothes, chains, piercing, and heavy make-up designed to hide her freckles and make her look like a vampire. Or so he had always assumed, whenever he thought of her. Which had not been often.

But now…now there was none of the Goth left to her. And none of the weight, either, and the glasses were gone as well. All that remained was the unmistakable long red hair. And the freckles.

"Hey…" he said, trying to sit up in bed. "Hey Ver---I mean, Vee. You look great. What are you doing here?"

"I work here," Vee answered simply. "And by the way, Gordo, you look terrible. What are _you _doing here?"

Gordo leaned back on the pillow, moaning, his stitches paining him. "Oh yeah," he remembered. "I got into some kind of…fracas…with a patio chair. I think. Outside of Starbuck's. Cut my head pretty good. Ow."

"Well, I know all _that_," Vee said, pulling his chart from the end of the bed and looking it over. "It looks like your girlfriend brought you in and−"

"Oh," Gordo said suddenly, remembering Jennifer in more detail. "She came with me? Huh! But she's not my girlfriend. She's just the Starbuck Girl, the waitress at Starbucks…"

"I beg to differ," Vee said. "There are no _waitresses_ at Starbucks, technically speaking. They don't bring the food to the table, they don't _wait _on you."

"True," Gordo agreed. "But 'counter help' is just too…boring, wouldn't you say?"

"Then how about…Customer Service Associates?" Vee suggested.

"Or Food and Drink Disbursement…Engineers?"

"Engineers…I like that! But how about something a little less formal? Maybe…Coffee Caddies?"

"Caddies?" Gordo questioned. "Like in golf?"

"Why not?" Vee said.

"Well, because when I think of golf, I think of grass, which makes me think of dirt, and I don't want to be thinking about dirt and coffee at the same time."

"Good point," Vee said. "So how about what they're actually called? At Starbuck's, I think they're officially called 'Partners.'"

"Like business partners?" Gordo said. "Hey, do you think they all own stock in the company?"

"I don't know," Vee answered. "Why don't you ask your girlfriend?"

"I already told you! She's not my…" But Gordo stopped short, because he could tell by the silly look on her face that she had not forgotten that fact, and she was only teasing him.

"Gotcha!" Vee grinned.

"Good one," Gordo congratulated quietly.

Vee accepted his praise, then returning to Gordo's chart, she announced, "Anyway, you'll be happy to know your CAT scan came back normal. I see you're scheduled for x-rays in the morning. And by the way, what I meant was…what are you doing in Boston? Oh no, wait! Don't tell me, Gordo! Don't tell me! Are you… a_Harvard _man?"

Gordo winced. "I am."

"Good goin', Gordon! I always knew you had it in you to make Harvard. I just didn't know they had a Film Studies program."

"They don't. I mean, I don't know, maybe they do. But it's not Film Studies anymore. It's…I'm…pre-med."

"Pre-med?" Vee marveled. "You? David Gordon? What the---? I mean, I would have never thought…so how did that happen? If you don't mind me asking. I mean, if you feel up to talking. If you don't, it's okay. I can come back later. I don't want you to---"

"No. No. It's okay," Gordo said. "I'm fine. I just…"

"Pain?" Vee asked, first looking quizzically at him, then checking his chart again. "Well, it looks like you're due. Let me get Emma to bring you something. I'll be right back."

Before Gordo could reply, Vee had flown out of the room, and for a moment it distressed him that she was gone, for he could not feel completely certain that any of this had happened, neither was he convinced she would return, with our without his pain medication. He wanted the meds, but even more, he wanted to find out how this person from his past had gone from being an out-of-control freaky teenager to the attractive self-assured young woman who had serendipitously found him, three thousand miles from their home. Gordo did not usually consider himself a spiritual person, and even now it may have had more to do with the bump on his head than anything else, but waking up to find Veruca Albano (he now remembered her full name), standing beside his bed, he had to believe this was more than simple coincidence.

Vee returned with Emma, a pretty nurse with sandy-colored hair, who gave Gordo a pill to swallow, then slipped away, back to her duties. As Vee pulled a chair across the room to sit beside Gordo's bed, he questioned, "Did you say you work here? Don't you have to…?"

"My shift was over at six. I'd heard earlier in the day that a David Gordon had been admitted, and that name made me wonder if there was any way it might be you, so I came by to see you earlier, while you were sleeping, and yep. Sure enough. David Zephyr Gordon, from Hillridge, California."

Gordo chuckled again. "You remember my _middle_name?"

"Hey!" she laughed. "It's a cool middle name! Who wouldn't remember it?" Then she smiled sheepishly and confessed, "Also…and I don't know if you know this, Gordo, but I had the biggest crush on you in high school. Back then, I made it my business to know lots and lots about you."

Now Gordo's chuckle turned into a full-fledged laugh, and it hurt to laugh, but at the same time, it felt good.

"Don't worry," Vee added quickly. "I'm over it. Long over it. A lot has changed with me since high school, in case you hadn't noticed."

Gordo smiled at her. "I wasn't worried," he said with a soft smile. "And yes, I had noticed. How could I not notice? Tell me what's been happening with you, Ver---Vee."

"Me,_shmee!_ I want to know what's been happening with you!"

"And I'll tell you," Gordo said. "But right now, it kind of hurts to talk, so until this pain medicine kicks in, if you don't mind going first…"

When he put it that way, Vee felt more ready to accommodate his wishes. "Okay then," she agreed, settling into her chair and leaning her elbows on the side of his bed. "Where would you like me to start?"

She was close enough for him to see every freckle, and for a moment he had to struggle with the desire to start counting them. "Well," he said, "the last time I remember seeing you, it looked like you and Ethan Craft had just…were just about to…"

"Buy tickets for the Hillridge High All Night Blood Suck Fest?"

Gordo tried not to laugh, but did managed to say, "Well…yes." She had practically taken the words right out of his mouth.

"Oh…that," Vee said airily. "You know, there never was such an event. And Ethe and I were never vampires. Not even close. We just got off of the fact that so many 'straights' thought we were. Turns out we were big phonies, posers, nothing more. "

Gordo nodded, a knowing smile on his face. "And Ethe…?" he asked. "Ethan?"

"Still a Goth?" Vee asked, guessing his question. "Hell, no! That was a long time ago. He's changed as much as I have."

"You…keep in touch?"

"Lots," Vee said. "He's still my very best friend, in fact he lives right down the block from me. After high school, we came out here together. We were supposed to go to Ohio, cos I was going to Ohio State, but then, senior year in high school, I had this radical change in plans, and I ended up getting a scholarship for Boston University, so we came here instead. First two years, Ethe was my roommate. I had my scholarship money, he worked at a gas station---"

"I knew it!" Gordo exclaimed.

Vee scowled at him, then continued, pointedly, "Until he became a firefighter."

Gordo stared at her, now speechless, and apologetic.

"Yeah, I guess you don't know Ethan as well as you thought you did, huh, Gordon?" She seemed a little offended that he did not have the same faith in Ethan that she did.

"I'm sorry. I…but what happened? How in the world did Ethan Craft ever become a firefighter? And how did you become a nurse?"

"I know how it seems," Vee said. "The two biggest Goths in the school, all anti-establishment, and we end up a nurse and a fireman, like two little kids fulfilling their kindergarten dreams. Only I'm not really a nurse, at least not yet. I'm a Dietician. Sort of. Well, I'm an assistant. I'm still in school, but I work here part time, kind of like an internship. But I'm getting way ahead of myself. Let me start at the beginning."

Vee settled back in her chair, and Gordo couldn't believe how anxious he was to hear what she had to say. It felt good to reconnect with someone from back home. And it also felt good to talk to someone whose life was obviously heading in the right direction, not a big pit of loneliness and confusion, as he too often felt his own life was becoming.

"Well, it all started back in high school," Vee began. "You remember how fat I was? And the summer before senior year, my dad---my real dad, not the guy my mom eventually married---well, he died. It was really upsetting, and I had a hard time dealing with it, and I guess I kind of deadened my pain by eating and eating, and by the time senior year rolled around, I was enormous.

"I'm sure you remember. I was the fat girl. The fat Goth girl. I was so pathetic and so unhappy, and there were plenty of times I thought about killing myself. And I might have, but my mom, she was great, and of course Ethan…he never gave up on me, he's always been a true friend. And I had some other friends, true friends, who really believed in me, and wished the best for me, and there was this one girl, I don't know if you remember her, her name was Cassandra, and she had a brother who was really big, but he got help in OA, so she turned me on to that, and I went to meetings, and it really began to make a difference. I began to deal with my eating issues, and my weight issues and, well…all my issues. And at the same time, there was this science teacher, do you remember Mrs. Chapman?"

Gordo nodded.

"Well, she had an interest in Nutritional Science, and kind of got me started with some reading, and research, and I learned a lot about food, what was good for you, what was bad for you, and it was all so fascinating, the way the body works, and metabolism and all that, and I found that as I was beginning to put my new-found knowledge into practice I was starting to lose weight, and feel better, and feel healthier, so I thought, 'Hey! This stuff really works!'

"It was a very exciting time in my life, learning so much, and beginning to deal with all my personal issues. And then Ms. Chapman, she put me on to this scholarship at Boston U, for studying to become a dietician. Before that, I was figuring to get a degree in Fine Arts, not really sure what I wanted to do with it. But this…this was something _real_, you know? This was something that could change people's lives! I could tell, because I could see it changing my life, every day, as I got thinner and healthier.

"You probably don't remember how much weight I lost towards the end of high school. I mean, I was still pretty big, but it was a start, a good start for me. And then I got the scholarship, and came out here, and started going to the university's fitness center, and really getting in shape. Ethe went with me, too. He got back into the same condition he was in back in middle school, when he was a jock.

"Remember that? Remember Ethan on the football team? Ha ha! Anyway, he started to look just as good, even better, and one day he said to me, 'You know, Ruca'---cos he calls me Ruca, he still calls me that, he's the only one who does---anyway, he said, 'You're such an inspiration, learning all about how to help people eat better and take care of themselves. You're really going to be helping people out. And what am I doing? Pumping gas? And what _could_ I be doing? Well, I've been thinking lately that I should also be doing something to help people out, like I could be a cop, or a firefighter, or something like that. Could you see me as a cop or a firefighter?'

"Well, of course I could! And I told him so. I mean, we had both dropped the Goth thing a long time ago. Once we got out here to Boston, we found it just wasn't doing anything for us anymore. Sure, it's a great way to rebel against your parents---at least in Ethan's case it was---but once he got out on his own, pissing off the parental units just didn't seem to matter so much anymore. And personally, I found out that all those chains and layers upon layers of fishnet and jewelry and clothing were a real pain to deal with at the gym. So we both just sort of gradually faded out of that, and faded into this really, really healthy lifestyle of eating right and getting in shape, and in my case, I kept losing weight, and in Ethan's case, he got so fit it was no problem at all to pass the physical for firefighter, and he was just in the right place at the right time, so now he's a firefighter, and I'm so…_so_ proud of him."

Gordo closed his eyes, remembering some of the tension that had existed between him and Ethan in the past. There had been a time when he felt very threatened by Ethan, because he knew Ethan had the hots for Lizzie, who was his girlfriend at the time, and of course, many years ago Lizzie had the hots for Ethan, so it always bothered Gordo, and somewhere in the back of his mind he always wondered if somehow Ethan might not steal away his girlfriend….

"Hey," Vee said suddenly. "Do you remember that time in Denny's?"

Gordo smiled. "I was just thinking about it. Sort of. You mean when Ethan spilled soda all over everyone?"

"Yeah," Vee said. "That was some night, huh? You and Ethan really got into it that night."

"I know," Gordo said. "I was such a little pr…I was a real bastard that night, wasn't I?"

"You were," Vee agreed. "But you couldn't help it. You felt threatened."

"I did?"

"Sure. By Ethan. You were always so afraid he was going to steal Lizzie away from you."

"I was?" Gordo said. When he looked at Vee, he noticed she was staring him directly in the eye. How did she know?

He sighed. "I was," he admitted.

"That's all right," Vee said. "If Ethe hadn't been all Gothed up at the time, Lizzie probably would have gone for him. Now that he's straight and clean-cut again, girls are all over him. Constantly. He can't help it if he's a chick magnet."

"Yeah," Gordo said sardonically. "It must be a hard cross to bear, being a chick magnet."

Vee rolled her eyes. "I guess you don't have that problem?"

"Not exactly."

"Then I guess you must still have the 'I'm too goddamn smart for my own good' problem," she surmised.

Gordo looked at her. "Basically."

She studied him. "Is that really such a horrible problem to have?"

"Sometimes. You should know. You were also pretty smart in high school, if I remember correctly."

"You do remember correctly," Vee confirmed. "I just never knew you paid enough attention to me to notice that. I always thought I was completely invisible to you."

"No, you weren't," Gordo said. "I always admired the things you said in our classes. And the fact that we were in so many classes together…well, that proves you were smart, doesn't it?" he joked.

"I guess it does," Vee agreed.

The looked at each other, smiling sadly, realizing too late what good friends they might have been, had they not been constrained by the social hierarchy of high school.

"So," Gordo said suddenly. "I think you dated Larry Tudgeman for a short while?"

Vee laughed. "Very short. We still keep in touch though, through emails. You remember he was on the baseball team?"

"Of course," Gordo said.

"He went to The University of Alabama on a baseball scholarship, but his real love is Astrophysics. He just started his graduate studies there," Vee informed.

Gordo chuckled quietly and shook his head. "Tudge…"

They sat for a moment, sighing as they remembered high school, then Gordo announced, "Miranda Sanchez married Hunter Canterbury."

"Canterbury like the movie producer?"

"His father," Gordo confirmed.

"Well, good for Miranda!" Vee intoned with raised eyebrows. "Then I guess she's gotten what she always wanted: money and popularity. If not her own, at least by association."

Gordo scoffed. "Don't be that way! There's a lot more to Miranda than just---"

"Senior Prom," Vee interrupted, holding up a hand. "That's all I'm going to say: Remember… The Senior Prom."

Gordo sat back, thinking, remembering. He could not help but smile. "All right," he agreed. "You got me there."

"Of course I do," Vee said. "I have a photographic memory. I remember everything. In vivid detail."

"It's a blessing," Gordo commented.

"And a curse," Vee finished.

He smiled at her. This was fun, sitting here with an old school chum, reliving old times, remembering old friends. He almost forgot he was in a hospital, and why he was here. But now Vee was about to remind him.

"So anyway," she said suddenly, leaning closer to him, "What's new with you, Mr. David Gordon? You promised me an update. Anyone special in your life? How's the family? And what in the world ever changed our Steven Spielberg Jr. into a doctor-wannabe? This has got to be one interesting story, I'm sure."

Gordo closed his eyes, and the gash on the back of his head began to ache worse than it had since being in the Emergency Room. So many questions! How was he to answer, when his head was throbbing so badly? And how was he to answer, he wondered, when, with sudden, unexpected clarity, he realized that he did not know the answers?

"Are you okay?" Vee asked carefully, noticing his silence, his pain.

Gordo kept his eyes closed, dealing with the pain, and soon he began to realize it wasn't pain from his injury, and shortly after that, he realized it wasn't even the pain of losing Lizzie. In this moment of epiphany he realized that the pain of losing his father seemed to be the beginning of his pain, but what he was feeling at the moment went even deeper than that.

Gordo felt a hand on his arm. He opened his eyes and saw Veruca looking down at him, concerned. "Gordo…Are you okay?" she repeated, softly. "Do you need anything? Do you want the nurse?"

"No," Gordo whispered, his throat feeling very dry. "I don't want the nurse. I don't want anything. I just want…I just need…I don't know…"

"What's wrong?" she asked. "You can talk to me, Gordo. I'm a really good listener."

"I think…" he said quietly. "I mean, I'm not sure…" He tried to sit up, and felt dizzy, so he remained still for a moment, steadying himself, waiting for it to pass. And when the dizziness passed, and he opened his eyes, and saw his new friend, who was also his old friend, looking at him, kindly, sympathetically, ready to listen, he realized in an instant that his past and his future were coming together in this very moment, and he was no longer going to be able to go on fooling people. Not Veruca, not his mom, not Lizzie (if she would ever bother to call him or write, which she hadn't, since they broke up so many months ago now). But most of all, he knew he was not going to be able to go on fooling himself.

"You've taken a good path, Vee," he said to the redhead beside him. "Things are going good, and I'm happy for you. And for Ethan too. And for Tudgeman, and Miranda, and even for Lizzie, cos she's got a job in advertising now, moving up that corporate ladder, and I hear she's even getting ready to buy herself a condo. So everyone from our class is doing well. But I'm not well. And I'm afraid when I start to tell you what's been going on in my life…you're going to see right through me, and realize what a dope I've been, and what a loser, and how much I've messed everything up. I have no idea who I am anymore, no idea where I'm going. And somehow I know…I know I'm not going to be able to hide that from you."

"I don't think you want to hide, Gordo," Vee said softly. "If you did, you wouldn't have said this much already. So you know what I say? Best to have it out at once. "

Gordo looked at her with trepidation. What she was suggesting could be extremely painful. He didn't know if he was ready for it. And yet, he didn't see how he could possibly avoid it at this point.

Sensing his apprehension, Vee pulled her chair closer, took his hand in hers and gently squeezed it. "Come on, Gordo," she said. "Whatever it is, you can tell me, and you can trust me. Something put you here in this hospital, something more than sugar and caffeine. Sugar and caffeine never help anything, but it's more than that, right? Something's gone wrong in your life, I'm guessing, and you know you're not going to feel whole and healthy until you put it right again."

"But…but…some things can't be put right," Gordo said sadly, even bitterly.

"But some things _can_," Vee answered instantly, then recited, "…the serenity to accept the things you can't change, the courage to change the things you can…"

Gordo nodded, and oddly, his head did not hurt as much as before. He took a deep breath and squeezed her hand. She squeezed back, and smiled at him. "Talk to me, Gordo."

"Okay," he said, then "Okay," he said again, and with that decision, and in that very moment, his life began to turn around for good.


End file.
